tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6371203489316363738.post1193655543639519126..comments2024-01-30T07:41:20.885+00:00Comments on Broken Barnet: Growing up in Broken Barnet: the making of Mrs AngryMrs Angryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00586223909475832791noreply@blogger.comBlogger39125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6371203489316363738.post-68632159855140236172022-10-06T15:39:00.544+01:002022-10-06T15:39:00.544+01:00Ahhhh the 'unhallowed grounds Of St. Vincent&#...Ahhhh the 'unhallowed grounds Of St. Vincent's ... how did it go? 'Saint Vincent's of the Ridgeway is a school we're proud to own. We all turn up at nine O' clock' then all unholy physical and mental purgatory was released! <br /><br />I was there in 58/59 until 63. Did I learn anything from this establishment? Yep... little self worth. Mine began aged five in the infants class, a time that appears to have been blocked out. My particular introduction became evident over a number of weeks. My mum started to notice large tufts of my hair missing , which she eventually went to the school to find out why. It would have that the nun who looked after that particular class had a propensity for grabbing children's hair when they appeared (in her eyes) not behave. The only solitary memory of that time was being able to play in the table sandpit.<br /><br />in retrospect I was moving on to even worse! The harridan that was O'Donovan!... a more malicious person apart from... well all of them!<br />The physical and mental abuse we were all subjected to defies belief. Each successive teacher had there own brand of humiliation to pass on. Mr Luscombe had me standing out in front of the class on a number of occasions for having the temerity to ask to go to the toilet. On one such occasion I really was in dire straights My sense of worth dropped through the floor when a small rock sized statement fell out of my short trousers. Not only was I made to pick it up and dispose of it I also was made to scrub the floor around that spot. <br /><br />My meetings with Sister Gabriel were usually to face, what must be the worse misuse of the English language 'six of the best'! As for Miss Watts It was all more of the same.<br /><br />Fr Kavanaugh and his ecclesiastical cohort were the church gestapo who put the fear of everything unholy into you. <br /><br />I remember the orphanage. There was a lad who came in to school from there, Kevin Coyne. I remember the Mooney's and the cow field by the side of the school. So many names forgotten now but there are a few, Richard Hall, Valerie Tichborne, Sylvia Fox.<br /><br />Do I have any happy memories? Running around the sloped playground pretending I was a spitfire pilot, maybe watching an educational programme on the wheeled out TV. Not a lot to show really for what is allegedly the time of your life. <br /><br />Fortunately I went to Bishop Douglass Secondary school, which although it had its ups and downs I survived and did come away with a love reading, and appreciation for the English language, music and art.Rob Taylornoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6371203489316363738.post-48775647686227393982022-08-19T19:37:55.471+01:002022-08-19T19:37:55.471+01:00Thank you for your comment. Yes, I remember her al...Thank you for your comment. Yes, I remember her all too well, because the hellish year I spent in her class is unforgettable, and has shaped my life in all sorts of ways. The cruelty of this woman seemed to drive her to want to humiliate children, especially the most vulnerable. I felt truly sickened when I read her death notice, and about the requiem mass at Westminster Cathedral. I only hope that the relatives who thought she was so deserving of such honour read this one day, and understand the damage wrought on so many children left in her 'care'. Mrs Angryhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/00586223909475832791noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6371203489316363738.post-61250388096787767722022-08-07T00:51:30.654+01:002022-08-07T00:51:30.654+01:00I was a pupil at St. Vincent's in the 1970s an...I was a pupil at St. Vincent's in the 1970s and I remember Miss O'Donovan.<br /><br />The picture you paint of her is chillingly accurate, but I am amazed that you can remember so much detail about her. I remember her as being old - even back then, but I wouldn't be able to describe her physical appearance at all.<br /><br />What I do remember is the fear, the cruelty, the sadistic curl of the lip, the sneering face, the snide remarks and the total lack of human kindness in the woman. I also remember the pain as her nails dug into my arm - but I was one of her favourites (even though she never remembered my name and always called me by my older brother's name) and escaped the worst of her wrath.<br /><br />In my class there was a boy with very special needs. Miss O'Donovan took great pleasure in tormenting him as much as she possibly could - possibly because he was black. The poor child, in an effort to escape her torture, would put his fingers down his throat and vomit - in the hope, I suppose, that he would be sent to Mrs. Edmonds, the school nurse. No such luck for this poor young lad. Instead Miss O'Donovan would scold him as the most wicked child and force him to clean up his own vomit with a bucket and mop. This became a daily occurrance until the boy was removed from the school by his mother.<br /><br />I was one of the lucky ones - she barely touched me, but she was much crueller to my brother. We would tell my mother about what Miss O'Donovan would do to the children in her care, but my mother never believed us. She would say we must have deserved being punished. Many parents thought highly of her. Back in those days there was a belief that teachers would always be right and children always wrong...<br /><br />Many years later, my mother admitted she had been misguided and apologised for not believing us. We were adults by this time, so it made little difference. I think my mother was shocked that we still harboured such loathing for Miss O'Donovan into our adult lives. That we had both stuck to our story for so many years without wavering or contradicting ourselves, then maybe - just maybe - we'd been telling the truth all those years...Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6371203489316363738.post-6213133109838719892021-07-08T19:56:42.042+01:002021-07-08T19:56:42.042+01:00Well, Anon: your time with Miss O'Donovan prec...Well, Anon: your time with Miss O'Donovan preceded mine, but I'm afraid I don't think that the 'excess discipline' and indeed, outright cruelty experienced in her class could possibly ever leave 'fond memories'. I often think of the boy whom she mocked - or ignored - who had severe learning difficulties, and whose parents - most unusually - came to the class to see her, before taking him away - as she told us gleefully, to a school for 'the subnormal'. She was a vicious, heartless bully, and whatever standards of academic achievement she attempted to impose, such a merciless regime was utterly indefensible. Mrs Angryhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16176567831823748076noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6371203489316363738.post-62412738625605186802021-05-28T20:57:49.692+01:002021-05-28T20:57:49.692+01:00I was taught by Miss O'Donovan whilst Sister G...I was taught by Miss O'Donovan whilst Sister Gabriel was headmistress. I was at the school from 1960 to 1967. Classmates included John O'Brien, Kevin Cullen, Philip Warton and Jimmy Mooney who lived in the farm at the end of the lane. John, Philip and I ended up going to Finchley Grammar School. Miss O'Donovan was certainly a disciplinarian of the "old school" and I spent many minutes standing in the corner learning my times tables and was a regular recipient of her ruler. I remember Sister Gabriel coming into the class and telling us we had to pray very hard because the world might be coming to an end-I think it must have been the Cuban Missile Crisis. In the final year there I took some stink bombs and stuff into school which somehow went off in class. I still remember a furious Sister Gabriel coming into the classroom shouting "who is responsible for that smell?!!". Gingerly three of us put our hands up. The class had to be evacuated. We got 12 strokes of the ruler, had to stand like prisoners of war with our arms in the air for what seemed like half an hour. Several of the girls were in tears at the punishment. Finally, we (myself, Ricky Scorza and William Cayless) had to learn the epic ride of John Gilpin-a 63 verse poem-it took about 6 weeks to learn and I could actually recite the whole lot for about a week afterwards-I still know the first verse. The extraordinary thing to me now is that I went home and told my parents all that had happened-I thought I had to learn the whole lot that night. They told me not to be silly, of course I could not learn it all that evening. Not a word about how unreasonable it was!! Different times. John and I had very fond memories of St. Vincents and used to reminisce about Miss O'Donovan and our first Holy Communion. Sorry, but apart from the excess discipline, we thought she was a good teacher and had fond memories of her. Sister Gabriel we did not like much though!Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6371203489316363738.post-28818842803182027302019-06-25T11:44:17.498+01:002019-06-25T11:44:17.498+01:00M - have left a message.M - have left a message.Mrs Angryhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/00586223909475832791noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6371203489316363738.post-70255935115011322292019-06-24T18:22:17.077+01:002019-06-24T18:22:17.077+01:00To M, who left several comments: I will contact yo...To M, who left several comments: I will contact you in the next day or so.Mrs Angryhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/00586223909475832791noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6371203489316363738.post-21871675910327943102019-02-07T22:06:32.387+00:002019-02-07T22:06:32.387+00:00Eddie: I only remember boys getting the bat, but S...Eddie: I only remember boys getting the bat, but Sister Gabriel seemed to relish the power she had over the children. I remember the punishment she gave one young boy in front of the school: not beating in that instance, just humiliation. She left me alone, because she knew my parents, and found me amusing. O'Donovan didn't: not that it would have made any difference. I was a challenge, new to the school - but not a badly behaved six year old: being walloped by her was for the grave sin of (occasional) spelling mistakes, or not being able to remember times tables. I think she simply enjoyed looking for any pretext to hurt and frighten children. That was the attitude of several teachers at the school, where there wasa general culture of ruling by fear, and rigid discipline.Mrs Angryhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/00586223909475832791noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6371203489316363738.post-55545124370225144252019-02-07T15:33:31.012+00:002019-02-07T15:33:31.012+00:00Oh I so remember St Vincents, and I was only there...Oh I so remember St Vincents, and I was only there for a year...my two older sisters remember The Witch Donovan very well...I myself was given the bat by Sister Gabriel but God knows what a 6yr old boy could've done to deserve that, as I was a very timid kid...very surprised to hear about Fr Kavanaugh as he used to visit my Mum a lot when we was little, and I never knew he was such a git...only thing I can say is that it taught me to hate all religions really...surprised to see that Anthony Sheridan posted on here and that even after 50 odd years I still remember a lot of the kids from that time.Eddie O'Connellnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6371203489316363738.post-37697589950258841642019-01-27T22:53:02.439+00:002019-01-27T22:53:02.439+00:00To the 'Unknown' who left a comment about ...To the 'Unknown' who left a comment about someone with a connection to another care home: I can't publish that, but I am very sorry to hear about your experience. I hope you will find someone to speak to about it, and in case you are not aware, there is currently a Scottish Abuse Inquiry which might be useful for you to contact. https://www.childabuseinquiry.scot/ Mrs Angryhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/00586223909475832791noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6371203489316363738.post-43051731667357407492019-01-24T20:07:12.319+00:002019-01-24T20:07:12.319+00:00I got beaten every day at that schoolI got beaten every day at that schoolAnonymoushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/02682228217497538978noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6371203489316363738.post-52657261485184571442019-01-24T19:52:09.913+00:002019-01-24T19:52:09.913+00:00I wish I could tell my story of the beatings I got...I wish I could tell my story of the beatings I got of those nunsAnonymoushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/02682228217497538978noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6371203489316363738.post-45953669559537573602018-11-16T20:55:22.561+00:002018-11-16T20:55:22.561+00:00I was there when you got your last six of the best...I was there when you got your last six of the best. Miss O'Donovan informed us all it had hurt her more than you. You immediately asked for a few more.I think the whole situation should be reviewed in the light of there being over 50 children in the class with untrained teachers supervising .I also remember you sending a big lump of potato covered in gravy in the air and hitting Mr Luscombe on one of his noses and getting away with it. Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6371203489316363738.post-20103512794359549272018-11-16T11:53:22.945+00:002018-11-16T11:53:22.945+00:00I'm tempted to say she gave us a (poisoned) ch...I'm tempted to say she gave us a (poisoned) chalice, but in fact it was a fruit bowl.Anonymoushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12407900672348466123noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6371203489316363738.post-43147084269274323712018-11-15T18:50:14.102+00:002018-11-15T18:50:14.102+00:00Hello 'Unknown'. It is significant, I thin...Hello 'Unknown'. It is significant, I think, that so many years after I published this post, I still receive so many comments. I don't publish them all, but clearly there are many people out there whose early lives were affected by the school's regime of terror - it was terror, for me, in that woman's class, and still, all these years later, the damage is still there.<br /><br />There was also a boy in my class who, when we were in the top class, had enough of the punishment meted out, got up, said he was going home, and did. They didn't even try to stop him. <br /><br />Am tempted to ask what present O'Donovan bought you ...Mrs Angryhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/00586223909475832791noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6371203489316363738.post-79966918304310578602018-11-15T00:42:22.851+00:002018-11-15T00:42:22.851+00:00Miss O'Donovan was my teacher in the 1st class...Miss O'Donovan was my teacher in the 1st class at St Vincents. On my first day at school I spoke to my twin brother in class, to which I was punished by her making me kneel at the front beside the blackboard. Bored as I was I put my hand on the peg which supported the blackboard and started to twiddle it. Suddenly without warning the peg came out and the heavy blackboard flew sideways falling and twisting, narrowly missing me and also Miss O Donovan. She screamed at me so loudly I ran behind the piano and lodged myself inside it where she couldn't reach me. After much shouting she went and got Sr Joan (the then headmistress) plus the gardener, and between them they managed to drag me out. Sr Joan then gave me six of the best on the hand. I was very frightened and when the bell went off for break my brother decided he had had enough and went home. They never missed him and only when my mum brought him back at lunch time did they realise their loss of a pupil. I endured Miss O'Donovan for a full year trying not to upset her, and was relieved to think I would not have to put up with her in the 2nd year only to discover that she had swopped to year 2, and I went through it all again. She never was able to teach me any arithmetic, but I discovered that she never checked our work so when I had to do sums in detention for an hour at the end of the day I tried doing "any old answers" which got me out earlier. I passed this knowledge onto my fellow sufferers who benefited from my skullduggery. Needless to say I failed my 11+ at the end of this "education". Sr Joan was very good with the cane. When I was in my final year she gave me six of the best, which for her meant as many as it took to make me cry in front of the class,I got to 18! When I left St Vincents I completely turned myself around by going to a decent private secondary school, at great expense to my parents, ending up with a degree and a very good job in engineering.<br />I married a girl from St Vincents when I was 21, and the final irony was a wedding present from Miss O'Donovan, which we still have!Anonymoushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12407900672348466123noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6371203489316363738.post-82063126694253431032017-08-20T09:36:18.272+01:002017-08-20T09:36:18.272+01:00Anon 19th August: I understand completely how you ...Anon 19th August: I understand completely how you feel. Half a century later I am still the child that stood in that classroom, or at least she is still somewhere inside me. Mrs Angryhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/00586223909475832791noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6371203489316363738.post-30920822800135646232017-08-19T18:40:48.398+01:002017-08-19T18:40:48.398+01:00I remember Miss O'Donovan, the smell of her pu...I remember Miss O'Donovan, the smell of her pungent perfume has haunted me forever, I can still smell it now when I'm stressed. Sister Gabriel was the meanest, I remember she was drawing names out of a hat to see who would be queen of the May, she said if God wants you he will choose you, my name came out, she said I could not be chosen as I hadn't got a long white dress, who did? So thanks to sister Gabriel I have gone through life feeling unworthy. I despise the Catholic Church.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6371203489316363738.post-78489363054438495022016-02-29T16:42:09.970+00:002016-02-29T16:42:09.970+00:00I am very sorry to hear this, Anon. I hope that yo...I am very sorry to hear this, Anon. I hope that you will consider reporting the incident even now, and that if you feel it would help, you are able to talk to someone in confidence about your experience. Mrs Angryhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/00586223909475832791noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6371203489316363738.post-70362733454684614952016-02-29T14:48:13.501+00:002016-02-29T14:48:13.501+00:00I am seventy five year old women I had the misfort...I am seventy five year old women I had the misfortune to go to St Vincent St Thomas and St james school's. I was abused by a priest and when I reported it one of the nun's I think it was sister Catherine locked me in a cupboard in her office and then got all my class in and asked them what they thought about me, she made sure they understood I was not a good girl, as I sat in the dark cupboard hearing her indoctrinating them, when I came out she told me I was a dirty minded little girl. This is just one instance of the hell I went through at school. I hope they all rot in hell Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6371203489316363738.post-20899967486251478642016-02-24T17:09:34.304+00:002016-02-24T17:09:34.304+00:00I note that today someone from the Westminster Dio...I note that today someone from the Westminster Diocese has also visited this post. Mrs Angryhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/00586223909475832791noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6371203489316363738.post-440444991912462302015-12-19T11:57:27.537+00:002015-12-19T11:57:27.537+00:00This morning I noted that the Holy See, Vatican Ci...This morning I noted that the Holy See, Vatican City State, was reading this post, with a search specifying the children's home. Perhaps this means there is some current, or historic, investigation into allegations of abuse. <br /><br />I would urge any reader who has any experiences they want to report to do so, through an appropriate channel, so that any issues that should be raised are addressed, even so many years later.Mrs Angryhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/00586223909475832791noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6371203489316363738.post-81041171376591662222015-10-11T22:21:13.867+01:002015-10-11T22:21:13.867+01:00I am glad you have happy memories of your time at ...I am glad you have happy memories of your time at St Vincent's Orphanage, Victoria - and that you still have your doll! There were some kind nuns and priests, and many of them gave their lives to their vocations. It's good to hear that you were treated well. Mrs Angryhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/00586223909475832791noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6371203489316363738.post-2357874782825801622015-10-11T21:27:02.198+01:002015-10-11T21:27:02.198+01:00I was in the orphanage from the age of 6 weeks unt...I was in the orphanage from the age of 6 weeks until I was around 3 yrs old. My Godmother was Sister Columba. She wore a black gown with a square white/black habit. I have photos of me with her and I also have photographs of Sister Bernadette holding me in her arms outside the convent in her white gown. I learned in later years that Sister Bernadette had gone off to the missionaries and was killed by an African tribe....? Not sure if that was true. Sister Columba would regularly visit me in Whetstone to make sure I was ok and she bought me a beautiful doll called 'Katie Heartbeat'. I still have this doll which she gave me when I was 8 years old. I am now 50. I used to think this doll was so big, yet now I look at it and it feels so small! I don't remember any cruelty but I was only 3 when I left St Vincent's Orphanage. Victorianoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6371203489316363738.post-78521655113918872482015-09-07T20:29:57.501+01:002015-09-07T20:29:57.501+01:00I have only just now found your blog. I remember ...I have only just now found your blog. I remember Ms O'Donovan. I have to admit that my stomach turned a somersault when I saw her name. I felt a fear that I haven't felt since I was six years old. May God forgive her because I can't !! Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com